اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Blow the winds of war
with' em all tragedies
that arrive devouring
the lovers putrid shadow.
The souls burn, swords nail on them
sinister holocaust,
divine holocaust
in the red coloured sky.
The blackest hordes
dressed of spells
like the infernal beasts
seducing to death.
The souls burn, swords nail on them
sinister holocaust,
divine holocaust
in the red coloured ecstasy.
...Angels fallen from grace
waiting for the dusk
seraphs loses their harps
(with the Avernal Duke step).
It tear the black veil;
the unholy discord.
It tear the black veil;
behind it the eyes of Satan.
